


Never Meet Your Heroes

by Yuliares



Series: ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων [3]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Coliseum Fighting, Deathmatch, Elysium, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuliares/pseuds/Yuliares
Summary: They say to never meet your heroes, but for Zagreus, there's only one path.
Series: ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613122
Comments: 2
Kudos: 94





	Never Meet Your Heroes

“The hellspawn returns!” crowed Theseus, dramatically pointing down the length of his gleaming, golden spear. On all sides, the crowded coliseum stands cheered. “Did you miss the sting of my blessed blade, foul creature?”

“Theseus,” said Zagreus, lip curling in scorn. Gods, he could not stand the man. And to think he had once thought it an honor to face him in battle. 

Beside the ancient King, the minotaur merely hefted his battleaxe in readiment.

Zagreus rolled his shoulder, and settled both hands on his bow. “Let’s go then.”

Zagreus moved back quickly as the bull charged him headlong, keeping to the outer edges of the arena as he loosed his first volley. A grunt—at least one mark finding its target. He immediately began moving again, and heard Theseus’ spear sing sharply into the shadow he left behind. He’d have to keep one eye on the braggart, and a pillar between them, lest his unerring aim find a clear path. Getting too close to Theseus would have him spinning a deadly arc—better to have him at a distance for as long as the minotaur hounded him.

But the pillars blocked his view as well.

“Ha!” cried Theseus, rounding the opposite side and hurling. Zagreus jumped back, but from the other side, the bull now leapt towards him. Zagreus twisted aside, throwing up a hand against the stinging spray of sand as the creature landed heavily. Too close, already, and as he stumbled to dodge the battleaxe, Theseus’ spear burned across the muscles in his upper arm and threw his blood onto the sands.

The crowd roared its approval.

“They love us, Asterius!” cried Theseus, and if Zagreus weren’t fully engaged with blocking the next swing of the minotaur, he would have made the ancient King pay for the prideful pose he struck his adoring fans—an insult to their battle.

Instead, he focused on the bull. Every fighter had their own patterns, and he was beginning to recognize them. There had been one swing— _ left _ —a second swing— _ right _ .

Achilles’ voice in his mind:  _ Focus, lad. _

The minotaur lunged forward, and Zagreus dashed through him, twisting his shoulder around to land three direct hits against his opponent’s undefended back.

“Blast you!” cried Theseus as his companion groaned, his words echoing and his spear not far behind.

Once more, his mentor’s words came to mind.  _ I think pride will always be their greatest weakness. _

Pressing the pads of his fingers against the bow string, Zagreus dashed for the next pillar. A tug of power, and he fed his first bloodstone onto the string, thrumming and maevalent. A little something to meet the minotaur’s next head-on charge.

He moved. 

There was a rhythm of battle that Zagreus loved—the vibrant ebb and flow of movement, every muscle straining and eager. 

Perhaps this was what it felt like, to be alive?

His bow spat forth. He was halfway across the arena now. Both opponents in his sights, he loosed a triple shot. A bit wide on the bull, but—

“Haha!” cried Theseus, shield knocking Zagreus’ arrow aside.

“How do you stand him?” Zagreus called out to the minotaur, when a dodge brought him closer than was advisable. 

The great horned head turned towards him, nostrils flaring. “The King's regard," Asterius said solemnly, "Is my my life's greatest accomplishment."

“Right,” gasped Zagreus, breathlessly diving out from the gleaming battle-axe's arc. A second bloodstone burned along the length of his arrow and burst onto the field. 

They were a strong team—forcing him to keep moving, dodging first one and then the other. As if a gigantic ox-headed man with an even larger axe leaping towards you wasn’t challenge enough on its own.

Taking a risk, Zagreus paused to line up a piercing barrage, catching the minotaur straight on.

“Not finished,” growled Artorius, badly wounded, but staggered for only a moment. His axe was a whirlwind, and Zagreus a second too slow.

The blow crashed against his head, and the edges of the world went hazy. A ringing filled his ears, and he could taste blood—bright and sharp - on his tongue.

Blindly, Zagreus leapt away, fingers loosing a spray of arrows to cover his retreat. Shaking his head, he put his back to a column, and forcefully exhaled as the world came back into focus. The bull’s blood was on the sands. One more shot.

His last bloodstone slotted into his grip as the minotaur burst into view—aimed, and fired.

With a groan, Asterius collapsed in a brilliant blue flare of light.

“You dispatched the bull,” cried Theseus, incredulous.

“Just you and me,” Zagreus agreed, calling back his bloodstones. They shivered beneath his skin, eager to fly again.

From the center of the arena, Theseus raised an arm to the heavens.

“Gods on high, attend me!” cried the King.

Zagreus smelled it first—the sharp tang of ozone, before the hair on his arms began to rise. He shifted his stance - he’d have to move fast.

Zagreus leapt, and electricity cracked behind him, once—twice—thrice. His hands—automatic upon the bow. Three more shots, one after the other, and a rolling dodge as another wave of lightning struck at his heels. Zagreus grimaced. The sands of the arena already flexed and shifted strangely beneath his burning feet. In the wake of his Uncle’s strikes, a litter of oddly-shaped blobs of glass would add an additional hazard.

Thunder rolled over the arena, and Zagreus almost missed the bright arc of Theseus’ spear in a flash of lightning, his fingers stinging with haste as he aimed and released. ****

A name leapt to his tongue—“Athena!”

Her Boon swell within him, his own arrow knocking Theseus’ spear back in a brilliant clash, heard Theseus cry out.

_ Let him taste his own blade _ , he thought with satisfaction.

“You shall pay dearly!” his opponent yelled. As if he had anything to lose but a single life, one droplet from the yawning depths of the river Styx.

He rounded the corner and met the King head-on. ****

“How many times must I win?” Zagreus cried out, leaping back from the bright, deadly spin of Theseus’ spear. “To earn your respect?”

“Respect? Ha!” laughed Theseus. “For one whom I’ve bested?”

“I’ve beaten you before,” Zagreus reminded him. “More times, now, than I’ve lost.”

“A  _ runaway _ does not earn honor,” Theseus said coldly, and Zagreus jerked as if he had been struck.

“I’m not—” he retorted, before cutting himself off angrily. Again, Theseus lashed out at him, and Zagreus took a hasty misstep, faltering for a heartbeat.

"Return from whence you came, hellspawn!"

Around them, the crowd rippled and yelled—a sea of souls eagerly leaning forward, just to catch a glimpse of his failure. Zagreus wished they would leap down from the stands, confront him directly. Having them all just— _ watch _ —was somehow worse.

Sweat—or blood—stung as it ran across his eye, and Zagreus swiped it away roughly. His breath was ragged now, but he could see his opponent flagging as well. The bright shield, once held so firmly, now listed downward.

Zagreus tightened his stance, when—a flash of unfamiliar color caught his eye. In that second of inattentiveness, Theseus was upon him. The spear burned into his shoulder, and Zagreus hissed as he jerked back, dropping and twisting to bury an arrow in his foe at point-blank range.

This time Theseus was the one to retreat, and Zagreus quickly moved to put a column between them, before glancing back for the source of his distraction.

He stared.

Someone had made a banner for him. Not just made a banner, but hauled it to the coliseum, and unfurled it over the stands.

Zagreus grinned, and deliberately brought his focus back into the ring.

He’d never needed much encouragement—just a little nudge was all it took to get him going. And in this match—under the eye of the crowd—it was enough to know at least one strange soul was cheering for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing action is tricky, and I took a lot of artistic license with depicting this bit of combat from the game. I welcome constructive feedback on this one.


End file.
